Becoming Spike
by Rosa Seravo
Summary: Buffy travels to 19th century London where she meets pre-vampire William (Spike) and plans to save him from being turned.


Title: Becoming Spike, Part 1

Summary: Buffy time travels to London, 1873 where she encounters the living

man who is to become the vampire Spike, believing she is meant to prevent his

turning and thus alter history.

Author: Rosa Seravo (pseudonym)

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Seasons two through four

Disclaimer: The characters and world contained in this fanfiction are the

property not of myself but of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, The Warner Brothers

Network and Fox Network. 

BECOMING SPIKE

Prologue

It was on a Wednesday in March that Buffy Summers, the first Slayer of the 21st

century, told Giles about the portal to the 19th century.

She had been walking on campus, minding her own business when she suddenly

found herself under a tree in a park in 19th Century London. After milling

around in a state of near panic for ten minutes or so, Buffy found herself back

at UCS in the 21st century. The portal was smack in the middle of the green

oval in the center of the campus. She experimented a couple of times and found

that the portal was at the big root of the tree in the London park. All Buffy

had to do was step on it and she was home. 

After some conversation with Giles, Buffy decided to return to the past with

her weapons, wearing a 19th-century style dress she rented at a local costume

shop. 

"Be careful, Buffy," Giles told her. "Remember you are going to London as an

observer. I don't know what your purpose is there, or even if you have one. 

But it is vital that you do nothing to alter the course of events. It could

result in disaster. When you are in London you are Miss Buffy Summers. You are

not the Slayer. You watch, learn and come home."

*******************

Part One

*******************

It was a surprise to the people walking and driving on Kettle Street on the

north side of London when a young, blonde woman in a dark blue gown seemed to

appear out of nowhere, smack dab in the middle of the street, only to be

knocked down by a passing horse-drawn taxicab. However, consumed with their

own affairs, they shrugged and turned away as they saw her rise, apparently

unhurt, and that a young man had rushed into the street to help her.

"Are you hurt, Miss?" he asked with urgency as he instinctively took her arm

and guided her out of the street.

"No, I'm fine. A little embarrassed. Thank you." Her accent was queer --

certainly not British.

"You need to be careful crossing the road around here. The taxicab drivers

will run you over and not take a glance back, Miss..."

"Oh, Summers. Buffy Summers." The young woman looked up from brushing the

dust and mud off her dress and her grey wool cloak. She smiled at the young

man. The smile died on her face as quickly as it came.

"Oh, my God," she gasped.

"Something wrong?" The man sounded concerned. "Does it hurt somewhere? Do you

need a doctor?" Miss Summers just stared, taking in the refined but masculine

line of his jaw, his sensitive mouth, his high cheekbones, his piercing brown

eyes. He furrowed his brow at her and she took a step back.

"What's your name?" she demanded. The young man rolled his eyes and seemed

annoyed with himself. 

"Sorry to be so rude. I asked for your name and didn't give you mine. The

name is Daniels. William Daniels." He extended his hand but instead of taking

it in hers, Miss Summers turned his arm over and pressed two fingers to his

pulse. It quickened at her touch. The girl was beautiful, William thought, if

a little strange.

"Oh, gosh. You must think I'm a complete freak," Miss Summers stammered. "I

-- I thought you were someone I knew."

"That's why you checked my pulse?" William asked, a little wryly.

"Oh. Well. He's -- ill. Very ill, and shouldn't be out in the cold --

evening."

"And neither should you," William said. "Are your friends nearby to take you

where ever you're staying?"

"Oh, no, I'm out alone. I'm lost I'm afraid. Could you tell me how to get to

the, um, inn? The one near here. Whichever inn is nearest to here, is my

inn."

William chuckled. "I doubt a lady like you is staying at the Black Dragon. It

has a bad reputation, that one."

"The Black Dragon," she laughed nervously, "no, no. It's the nearest

moderately priced middle-class inn. I forget the name."

William smiled. He had an open, friendly smile, and Miss Summers couldn't help

smiling back. His knees almost went weak. She was a lovely girl, and she

reminded him of -- no, he didn't want to think about Lila. But so many things

were the same...the golden hair, the full lips, the impudent nose. He had a

sudden urge to seize her in his arms and kiss her, right there on Kettle Street

and damn what others might think. He collected himself. He hated these rash

impulses that came over him. They only served to get him into trouble. If

people could express their feelings immediately, with no hesitation, no social

mores to strap them in, they'd be animals, no better than dogs mating in the

street. Human beings were and ought to be higher and better than that, he

believed. William Daniels might be low-born, but he was a civilized man.

"The Cup and Platter Inn," he told her. "I'll take you there. You shouldn't

be walking these streets alone and it will be dark soon."

"I can take care of myself very well," Miss Summers said. 

"Oh, I'm certain you can. But there have been some -- incidents -- in this

part of town. I'm afraid you're stuck with me." Miss Summers took his

proffered arm and they set off.

"What sort of incidents," she asked him.

"Rather shocking ones, I'm afraid. I don't want to frighten you. If you stay

inside after dark, you should be safe enough."

Miss Summers sighed impatiently. "I'd like to know what incidents you mean, Sp

-- um, Mr. -- "

"Daniels."

"Daniels, if you don't mind."

William stopped walking for a few moments and looked down at the small,

delicate woman on his arm. Delicate but strong, her eyes as determined and

unshakable as the rocks of Cornwall he'd seen once while travelling with his

tutor's family. He decided to tell her the truth.

"There have been a few random killings. All women. All within a half mile of

this spot. Horrible thing. Nice girls, well brought up, like you."

"How did the killers do it?" She sounded grave, but not terribly shocked.

Perhaps this sort of thing was more common in the States. Despite that,

William didn't tell her the truth this time. It was too horrific and he didn't

want to give her the kind of nightmares that he had suffered when he first

learned of the murders.

"Stabbed," he said. "All stabbed to death. Don't you worry about it. I'm

sure he'll be caught soon, whoever he is, and he'll hang for his crimes."

"You sound angry," Miss Summers said. They had stopped in front of a

quaint-looking building which bore a sign with a picture of a cup and platter. 

"I knew one of the women. We weren't close but -- she was the daughter of a

particular friend of mine. He'll never be the same."

"I'm sorry," the girl said. William waved away her concern. He didn't want to

talk about it anymore. 

"You need anything, I'm staying at 106 LeGrande avenue. Just three blocks

north of here. It's the residence of my tutor, Isaac Brown."

"You have a tutor. Hmm. Having trouble in one of your subjects?" William

flinched at her flippant tone. She flushed. "Oh -- that was rude. I keep

forgetting that you're not...that person I mentioned before."

"Not at all." It was forgotten. "Professor Brown is tutoring me in a few

subjects because I can't afford university and he needs the money."

"Well, that's commendable. You know, to pursue your education anyway you can."

William smiled at the compliment. "Listen," Miss Summers said. "Would you

join me here for dinner tomorrow night, say sixish? I wanted to talk to some

more about -- "

"Yes," he said before she could finish. He touched her hand and hurried away

before she could see his face.

****************

Buffy was cold. She was lurking in a narrow alley between two buildings across

the street from 106 Le Grande. Her pants and pullover sweater weren't enough

to ward off the chill of a March evening in London. She stamped her feet and

blew on her hands, and she waited. 

Then she saw them. A couple strolled arm and arm passed 106 Le Grande,

stopping for a moment in front of the townhouse and whispering to each other.

Buffy's heart jumped into her mouth. She knew the man immediately, and almost

as quickly, she knew the woman.

"I'm going to stop them," she whispered. "Giles was wrong. That's why I'm

here -- to stop them."

PART TWO

They were eating meat pies at the Cup and Platter. Buffy wore the same simple blue dress. William was wearing a grey suit with suspenders. His light brown hair hung in his eyes. Buffy suddenly had an irrepressible urge to giggle. Brown hair that actually looked like -- hair. Suspenders. 

How Spike would hate it.

As Buffy chuckled softly, William looked up at her. His eyes were serious and sincere. "What?" he said. "What's funny?"

"Oh -- nothing." Buffy colored. William shrugged in a gesture she recognized. Buffy no longer found the situation funny. William Daniels was going to die very soon unless she did something. Giles had urged her to do nothing, had insisted that tampering with history was very dangerous, and could result in disastrous consequences. But the Powers that Be had opened this portal for Buffy and caused her to meet William for a reason. If it was not to keep him from becoming Spike, she could not imagine what the purpose could be. Thus, she was determined to change history. It must be what the Powers wanted. She didn't admit to herself that it was also a good way to spite the vampire she hated most in the world. A slaying before the fact.

"You have family in London, Mr. Daniels?" she broke the silence.

William stopped eating. "No. My father died five years ago. Mum passed away just last year." 

"I'm sorry. You must miss them."

"I miss Mum very much," he said. He made a show of trying to eat again. Buffy regretted bringing up such a grim topic, and she changed the subject.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a journeyman printer," he said. "We put out a small newspaper. I'd like to write for it one day."

"You should, you're smart," Buffy said. 

"So how is it that you're not married yet?" William questioned her in turn. "Are you the independent sort, trying to get the vote for women and all of that?"

"You could say that. I'm sort of a career woman."

"And what career would that be?" He sounded like he was humoring her. Buffy tried not to feel annoyed. It was 1873 and not many women had careers these days.

"So why aren't _you_ married, Mr. Daniels?"

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "She wouldn't have me. She said she -- we had an understanding but she got engaged to someone else."

"That's harsh," Buffy said. 'She sounds like Drusilla,' she thought.

William was finished eating. He pushed his chair back from the table and stared at the wall behind Buffy, his eyes blank. "I don't judge her. I'm from a working class family. My father worked in a steel factory. I've got no money. The man she's marrying is a gentleman with plenty of family money. Why would she marry me when she has an opportunity like that?"

"Does she love him?"

"She told me she doesn't."

"Did she love you?"

William looked at Buffy. The pain in his eyes seemed to reach to the back of his skull. "I believe she did," he said. And Buffy knew that was the worst of it, that he knew this woman loved him but she left him anyway. When those who love you desert you anyway, what in the world can you count on? She knew that feeling. There was none more bitter.

"She's a fool," Buffy said. 

"I suppose we both were," William murmured. 

Buffy glanced at the window. It was six thirty p.m. but it was still light outside -- the sun in England set late this time of year. "It's still early. Do you want to go for a walk?" 

"If you like, Miss Summers."

"Please, call me Buffy. It's the custom in America and being called Miss Summers feels majorly weird."

"All right then -- Buffy." He tried to hide a smile as he said her name, but Buffy noticed and remembered what his evil counterpart had once said about her name. What an exasperating man he was.

The park where Buffy's time portal lay was near the Cup and Platter. They chose to walk there in the late afternoon sun. 

"William -- I can call you William can't I? I have a confession to make," Buffy began. "I haven't been totally honest with you...and I still can't be totally honest."

William knit his eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't come to London to visit friends, like I told you. I came to investigate these murders you've been talking about."

William stopped in his tracks. He stared at her, his mouth gaping open. Pure shock.

"But what? How?"

'Two excellent questions, as Giles would say' Buffy thought. "I was sent here to investigate because the police here need American expertise. This kind of thing is more common in the States. You know, it's full of wild, barbaric colonials." She began walking again and after a moment, William followed.

"You must be joking," he insisted. "You're a girl, you can't be twenty yet. You of all people are investigating a multiple murder for Scotland Yard?"

"Well, see, it's because I'm a girl. I fit the profile of the victims. I'm sort of the - the bait."

"Scotland Yard is using schoolgirls as bait now?"

"No, I work for a - a private agency." But William wasn't buying it. The lie was all over her face and in her voice. Buffy stopped walking again. "I know this sounds crazy. I can't tell you how or why I got involved. I'm not even supposed to be telling you I'm involved at all. But I have to because --" Oh, God. How to tell him?

"Because what?" William peered closely at her through narrowed eyes. Buffy hated that expression of his. But this was William Daniels she was talking to, not Spike, and he deserved warning. She took a deep breath.

"Because I have reason to believe you are the next target of the killers."

William's expression changed from suspicion to something like pity. "Thank you for the warning," he said, "But I am quite safe. The bad man committing these crimes is going after girls, not men his own size. He's a coward."

"There are two killers, William. We know who they are, we just don't have the evidence necessary to turn them in. They were spotted last night in front of your tutor's house, where you're staying."

"Even if that's true, they already attacked the professor's daughter. Maybe they returned to gloat."

Buffy shook her head. "They want you, William. You have to believe me."

"Buffy", William cut her off. He took her by the arm and led her away from the path, under a tree, an out of the way spot where passersby couldn't hear them. "You've got to stop talking like this. You're suffering from some kind of nervous delusion, and someone less understanding than me could have you committed to Bedlam."

"I'm not crazy. Let go of me. You have to listen --"

"Quiet." William put his finger on her mouth. "Not another word."

"But -- "

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her a little. " You know what they do to people in Bedlam? You sleep on a hard bed in a room infested with rats and insects. They put violent women and nice girls like you in the same room. If you misbehave they hold you down in a tub of ice water until you're quiet. Some people drown that way. You want that? Do you?"

Buffy swallowed. "No, that's a bad, but --"

"Then not another word, not to me, not to anyone."

"Fine, not another word," Buffy said. "Let's get back to the inn. It looks like the sun will be setting soon."

PART THREE

It was starting to turn dark as William and Buffy made their way through the narrow streets. An glum silence separated them. William was nursing his disappointment that this lovely girl who had begun to make him forget Lila was either crazy or a liar. Buffy was angry with herself for failing to convince him that he was in danger, angry with him for being no easier to reach than his vampire counterpart.

"'Ello, 'ello!" The thick Cockney accent broke through their reverie. A big-boned man, a scraggly beard and bad teeth marring his oddly handsome face, stepped in front of them and blocked their way. He leered at Buffy. "Fi, fy, fo, fum. Aren't you a pre'y li'l fing?" 

William stepped between Buffy and the stranger. "What d'you want, Eddie?" he said.

"Cor. Nancy-boy 'ere wants to know wha' I want. And 'ere 'e's been livin' wif a toff these last months, finkin' 'e's too 'igh 'n' migh'y for the likes of us. Now all of a sudden 'e's friendly-like. Well, Willie, I'll tell ya wha' I want. I want to give yer quean 'ere a right shaggin'."

"Get out o' my way," William hissed at him. His vowels had a Cockney sound now, like Eddie's. Eddie grabbed his collar and rammed William against the wall of the Cup and Platter Inn. At the moment, there were no passers-by to intercede. Buffy itched to throw Eddie across the road but she restrained herself. If William was anything like Spike, he could fight.

"Watcha gonna do, toff? Can't run cryin' to yer mum now, 'cuz that bitch is dead." William said nothing in return, but his brown eyes had narrowed to slits. Buffy waited. "Wanker!" Eddie spat and threw William to the ground. He turned his attention to Buffy.

"Wellie wellie well. Nice, ripe girl you are, Missie. Are you a goer?" He grabbed Buffy's breast, and soon learned his mistake when he felt the shooting pain of her knee in his groin. Buffy was planning to do more damage but suddenly Eddie was on the ground, struck in the head by William's fist. He straddled Eddie who, clearly the stronger of the two, threw him off easily. Buffy gave Eddie a subtle kick in the ribs. William got up slowly. 

"You all right?" he asked Buffy. "He hurt you?" 

"I'm fine."

William turned to Eddie and offered him a hand up. Eddie refused him, staggered to his feet hurling epithets and stumbled away.

"Let's get inside," William said. They found a table inside the Cup and Platter. A serving girl approached them. 

"You two find trouble?"

"Could we have some water, please?" Buffy requested. She turned her attention to William, examining his head for bumps. He let her. "Why didn't you fight back?" she asked him. "You proved you could take him when you defended me...which...thank you, by the way."

"I don't like violence," William said. Buffy knew this could not be entirely true. She decided to press him a little further.

"You know, it's not wrong to defend yourself against an attacker," she said, smoothing his brown hair back into place while William avoided her eyes. "I mean, violence is evil, but sometimes it's a necessary evil." 

"Uh, yeah. My father used to say that when he beat Mum for burning the porridge. There's a hundred excuses for violence and he knew every one of them. I'm sure Eddie thought he had a good reason for wiping the ground with my -- " he checked himself.

"Your father," Buffy said slowly. Their eyes met and she felt she could see far into his, the sadness, the anger going on forever. "You don't want to be like him."

William smiled then, as sorrowful a smile as Buffy had ever seen. "Well now, that's the thing, isn't it? I am like him."

"What do you mean?"

"There are times when I feel..." he checked himself. "I don't know why I'm telling you these things. I seem like a nice enough bloke to you, but I'm not."

"Sp..William. Everyone has some violence in them, some rage. That doesn't mean that you have to punish yourself by letting guys like Eddie bully you."

"You don't know me, Buffy. It's probably better you don't get to know me too well." He got up from the table. "I have to get back."

"It's dark. You should take a taxi."

"I'll walk."

"William...you shouldn't be walking after dark. It's not safe for you."

"Stop it, Buffy. I told you, no more of that talk." William made his way to the door in an unhappy daze. Buffy followed him outside.

"William, they're a couple. The man is tall, with hulking shoulders, one of the handsomest men you've ever seen. He speaks with an Irish brogue but he might disguise it."

"Good-bye, Buffy."

"William!" Buffy stalked after him, still talking . "The woman is the one who will lure you in. She's dark, beautiful in a pointy sort of way. She has a diamond shaped face. She's crazy, she acts like a child..."

"Good-bye, Buffy."

"You see them, you run! Run you hear me?" she shouted after him. Stubborn man, always refusing to listen. She hurried back into the hotel to change her clothes.

PART FOUR

William felt himself to be a bitter, bitter man as he made his way home. In 25 years of life he had fallen in love with one woman. She abandoned him. Now, a year later, he had met Buffy Summers and felt the old stirrings of passion. 

But Buffy Summers was mad, or a liar, or both.

William formed the resolution, as he trudged the lonely, cold streets of north London, that he would have nothing more to do with women, ever again.

He had no sooner formed this notion when a young woman in servant's dress, running like a bat out of hell down Le Grande, collided with him and clung to him, weeping loudly. "You got to 'elp me, guv'na! 'E's after me! 'E tried to kill me!"

William was at first too surprised and embarrassed to absorb the girl's ravings. "What? Who is? What happened?" he stammered as he tried to pry her arms from around his half-strangled neck. 

"Oh, God, sir, 'elp me! 'E attacked me! 'E tried to bite me! 'E's a cannibal, a savage!" William frowned. The girl might be panicking needlessly, her fears fed by rumors...but if she had truly encountered the killer, she needed William's help. 

"Let's get inside," he said. "I live three doors along."

"I cannot, sir, I am so very late an' the master will half kill me! I dropped all my money and the food I bought at the market, I got nothin. Couldja lend me a few shillings for a taxi?" Fortunately, a taxicab approached them as they spoke. 

"Come, I'll see you home, then," William said. He hailed the horse-drawn taxi, which stopped for them with a screech of wheels. The black horse foamed at the mouth from the strain of the day's hard work of dragging humans around all day. William helped the girl into the taxi and climbed in beside her. He asked for the direction of her master's home then shouted instructions to the driver. He was familiar with the neighborhood, three blocks north of Le Grande, the site of some of the most elegant homes in the city. 

"My name is William Daniels," he said to the maidservant beside him. "And might I ask..."

"It's -- a -- a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. My name is Liza Lord. Just call me Liza." 

"Can you tell me what happened?" William pressed her gently. Liza turned her head toward him. Her face was swollen from crying, her eyes red and puffy -- impossible to tell if she were plain or pretty. She could not have been more than 20 years old. Her dark hair was pinned up under a white servant's cap underneath the hood of her grey woolen cloak. 

"'Tis me own fault for disobeying the master. 'E told me to be 'ome before dusk but I took to gossiping at the market and before I knew it, then sun was setting. Been a long, long time since I seen a sunset so pretty...." Her voice trailed off and her eyes took on a faraway look. 

"Well?" William said.

Liza regained her focus. "So I start making my way home, in a great 'urry, an' then I see this bloke leanin' against the wall of the butcher shop. 'E's looking at me, you see. ME. He seems a right gentleman, 'e does, the 'andsomest gent I've ever seen."

William started. "The handsomest?"

"Oh, yes, sir...tall, big shoulders, black hair, 'andsome face like an angel. An' 'ere I am, a plain li'l fing the lads never give a glance." William could scarcely believe his ears as she spoke. Liza's account fit to a tee the man Miss Summers had described. Miss Summers...

"What did this man do to you?" 

"Oh, so I pass by the gent, an' I gave 'im a glance out of the corner of me eye. 'E smiles at me, with these dazzling white teeth. I like white teeth, don't you, sir? An' he says 'C'mere lass.' So who am I to say 'im no, a fine gent like that, so I walk up to 'im. 'E introduces 'imself as Mr. Angelus. 'E tells me I'm a pre'y an' he wants to ask me master if 'e can come calling. So now I know somefing ain't right an' I walks away from 'im. 'E follows me, pulls me into an alley an' I drop my purse an' the groceries I bought...." Liza stopped for a moment and caught her breath. William placed his hand over hers. It was trembling.

"Did he attack you?" William asked her. Liza nodded. The tears were flowing again. 

"'E tried to bite me, sir. On my neck. So I scream," she said, "'An praise God, two young men pass by an' see us. Mr. Angelus looks up an 'e makes this growling sound, like nothing 'uman, sir. I broke away from 'im an' I just ran and ran and ran until I did not know where I was headed. Then I bumped into you, sir. Thank God for you." She took his hand in hers and smiled at him through her tears. William liked this young servant. She had a sweet, trusting manner which endeared her to him. Still, he could not be sure her story was true. Perhaps some oaf had made a crude pass at her and, frightened by the recent murders and the gruesome rumors she must have heard regarding them, she might well have imagined the rest. Still, her description of her attacker was so close to Buffy's....Buffy....

The taxicab stopped. Liza glanced out the window. 'This is the place," she said. "Will you come in with me and help explain to the master why I've lost his money and the food. 'E'll believe you." William felt for her. It was not easy being a nobody living in the home of the well born. They got out of the taxi; William paid the driver, asking him to wait for him for a few minutes. But no sooner did he make his request than the driver whistled to his horses and drove off.

"Bloody 'ell," he muttered, his Cockney accent creeping back under the influence of Liza's speech.

"Come inside wi' me, Mr. Daniels," Liza coaxed him, laying a thin hand on his arm. "We'll take the servant's entrance." William was impressed by the home. It was a very fine townhouse, built of majestic grey stone. As soon as they entered through the side door, Liza removed her cloak and hood, and William was able to get a better look at her face. It was full in the mouth, olive of skin and angular of feature, contrasting with the cherry lips, white skin and china doll visage so prized in 19th-century London. But William liked the way she looked. She could not have been more different from false Lila, or half-mad Buffy. Maybe he ought to marry a plain serving girl who would appreciate him for who he was.

The bell in the kitchen rang.

"The master is ringing for me! He must 'ave 'eard us come in." Liza tugged at William's arm. "Come with me to the den, Mr. Daniels."

"Of course I will. I'll explain the matter to him," William assured her. Liza gazed at him with dark, grateful eyes and then led him a short hallway, up the stairs to a set of double wooden doors. She threw them open, revealing an elegant room. The rich carpet was charcoal grey, covered with oriental rugs. A chandelier lit the room, revealing wine-colored drapes and furniture. The fire ebbing in the fireplace threw an eerie light on the massive ebony bookcase. A high-backed desk leaned against a wall, seeming to open its jaws to swallow whoever might come venture too close.

A tall figure rose from the wine-colored divan. William made out a bulky frame, elegantly clothed, dark hair and a grim jawline. This must be the master.

"Liza Lord, what is the meaning of this?" the gentleman growled.

"This is Mr. Daniels, sir. 'E saw me 'ome after I took a fright. Mr. Daniels, this is Mr. William Lautrec." 

"William Daniels," said the latter, extending his hand. 

Mr. Lautrec took it in his. He didn't shake it, just held it for a moment in his clammy grasp and let go. "Welcome to my humble little home," he said. William Daniels detected just a hint of Irish in his accent. "Go up and get your dinner, Liza. I will deal with you later." Liza scampered away, glancing back at William Daniels as she left the room.

"Please don't be too hard on the girl," said the latter. "She's frightened by all the talk of the recent murders. To top it off, some bloke accosted her on the street and gave her a bit of a jolt."

"It was kind of you to see her home," Lautrec said softly. "Have a seat, Daniels. Care for a spot of brandy?"

"Wouldn't say no," William Daniels said. Lautrec poured the golden liquid into a crystal glass and handed it to William, who sipped it gratefully, for the night was cold. He began to warm up immediately.

"What do you do, Daniels?" Lautrec asked as he sat down opposite William and peered at him through his narrow, brown eyes. William spoke frankly of his humble background and private tutelage by a college professor. Lautrec made some polite remarks about how fortunate he was to find a patron, and spoke of his other home in Ireland. William Daniels didn't like him. Didn't like the way he stared, didn't like his sarcastic white smile, didn't like his light, cackling laugh. But it was all starting to blur together.

"Not feeling well? Daniels?" Lautrec crouched in front of William and snapped his fingers in front of his eyes. William could barely respond. He did not know what had come over him but he was dizzy and unwell. Lautrec helped him to his feet. He said something about lying down for awhile. William was steered down a hallway through a small chamber, into a larger one. "My bed is your bed," said Lautrec as he sat William down on an enormous bed, covered in rich black fabric. Lautrec left the room and William was left alone in the strange fog that surrounded his mind.

"There you are, dear," came a soft, flinty voice. William slowly turned his heavy head and saw...

A vision.

She was magnificent -- tall and willowy, wearing a long, black nightdress cut so very low in the front, barely covering the tips of her small, supple breasts. Black hair cascaded below her thin shoulders, a fall of curls crowning her head and spilling over her natural hair like tendrils of French chocolate. Her exotic face glowed in the firelight. She smiled at him, revealing ample white teeth and it struck him that this was Liza. But how....why....

"Liza?" he whispered.

"Liza is a short name," she said. "My real name is Drusilla. Call me Drusilla, love." William stood up, his head spun, he seized a bedpost for support. The girl who called herself Drusilla approached him, a tear falling down her smooth cheek.

"I'm so sorry, love," she whispered. She placed her hand on his hair. "I am so sorry it has to be this way. You are good and sweet and true. And you thought she was too...and she left you. But I never will, my darling, I never will." She placed her hands on his shoulders, removed his jacket, slowly unbuttoned his white shirt. Her hands were on his skin. William tried to ask a dozen questions...who she was, what she wanted from him, what this all meant, but he could not speak. But Drusilla spoke instead. "I longed for a white knight but he never came. He never came." Another tear dropped. "This is your first time, isn't it love? She denied you, denied you, stupid girl." Drusilla leaned forward and pressed her cheek against his, her tear caressing his skin. "But you can be my white knight, just this once, love...just this once, though you never can be again." She slipped his shirt over his shoulders and pushed him back onto the sumptious black bedding. Her fingers were like silk and her kisses fell like rain. And William Daniels threw his arms back and stretched out under her body in the helpless bliss of surrender.

PART FIVE

Buffy had lost them. She ran with a Slayer's speed but once the taxicab turned a corner or two it was out of her sight and she felt like she was in a maze.

Stupid man. Why wouldn't he listen to her? She wandered the streets for half an hour, then saw the same taxicab. She flagged it down.

"What's that, lad. I ain't got all night," the cabbie snapped. Good, Buffy thought. He'd taken her for a boy in her jeans and shirt and cap, just as she'd intended. She climbed into the driver's seat next to the cabbie. "'Ere, you can't sit up 'ere!" he complained. 

"Where did you take the man in the grey suit and the crying girl who was with him?" Buffy demanded, keeping her voice boyish.

"Mind yer p's and q's. Now get off wi' you!"

Buffy gripped the back of his neck with an iron hand. "I'm gonna ask you again, Mack. And you're going to answer me before I lose my temper."

Silence.

"I'm waiting."

********************************

When William awoke he was shirtless and his head ached. Memories came back in bits and pieces... he didn't know how much was true and how much had been a dream. The vision of ordinary Liza transformed into a dark goddess, her soft skin luring him into sin, making his body sing...If it had been a dream, no harm done. If real...then he must admit himself ravished. His stomach turned.

William looked around for his shirt and jacket. They were nowhere to be found. The hair rose on the back of his neck. Nothing about this situation was cricket. Gingerly he opened the chamber door and stepped into the dark corridor. Across from him was a doorway. Lamplight eeked out from under the closed door. He heard talking and laughing through the walls. A man and a woman. He recognized Liza's voice. Or was she called Drusilla? 

Either way, she was no servant. He was convinced of that.

His muddled head was clearing, and Buffy's words returned to him. "It's the woman who will lure you in. She's beautiful in a pointy sort of way....dark hair...when you see them, run!"

How could he be so bloody stupid.

Miss Summers had warned him but did he listen? Oh, no, not stubborn old Willie, and he walked right into their trap. He was a toy for the amusement for these two perverts. And he had let that woman...good God.

William crept away down the corridor on catfeet. Growing up with a violent and unpredictable father he'd gotten good at stealth. He turned a corner and was face to face with Miss Summers -- dressed like a boy. He nearly cried out in surprise. She clapped a small hand over his mouth.

"Shh! I'm getting you out of here," she whispered.

"Dammit, Miss Summers..."

"You're shirtless. Did they bite you?" Buffy felt his neck and shoulders for wounds. He let her at first but when her fingers slid over the nape of his neck and behind his ears he reached for her hands and put them away from him. He'd been groped enough for one night. "I'm done," Buffy said. "I guess you're clean. Unless they bit you someplace...else." She felt his pulse. "It's beating. Beating pretty fast, actually."

He jerked his wrist away. "Why do you keep doing that? We have to get you out of here."

Satisfied that she wasn't leading a vampire out of the house, Buffy took his hand and they walked quickly and quietly down the stairs. "How did you know I was here?" William asked her, his voice low.

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" Buffy asked in turn.

"The woman took it."

"Drusilla. It figures. At least she didn't bite you, though. I wonder what they're waiting for."

"What is all this biting business?"

"It's how they kill."

"That's not possible. Human teeth can't sever the..."

"Shhh!"

They heard a door slam upstairs, and footsteps. William opened the nearest door and pushed Buffy inside, then ducked in beside her. IT was a small broom closet. He closed the door behind them. "Good thinking," Buffy whispered. William put his finger over her mouth. His left arm pulled her to him in a protective gesture. Buffy realized she was leaning against his bare chest. His muscles were firm. He smelled good. Now Buffy's pulse was racing.

"I won't let them hurt you," she said. She had to say something. The silence was maddening.

William chuckled under his breath. "I'm not really worth of all this, Buffy. Better they hurt me than you."

Tears stung Buffy's eyes. She knew she could fight and escape Angel and Drusilla but she didn't know if she could save William in the process. This might be the last hour of his life. As if he sensed her distress, William lowered his head and gently kissed her forehead. Instinctively Buffy put her hands on his shoulders and looked up at him. 'This is wrong,' she thought. 'I shouldn't be doing this.' But now his lips were brushing her cheek, now her other cheek. The tip of his nose brushed against hers and she remembered Willow's spell, remembered how passionate and intense Spike's kisses were and she imagined that if Spike's passion mixed with William's compassion and strength, were pressed against her lips in a kiss her knees would go weak and her head would spin and he'd have to hold her up. She mustn't let it happen...but she tilted her head, parted her lips slightly and waited, waited....she felt his breath on her lips as only a hairsbreadth separated their mouths....

The closet door opened. Angelus' grinning face appeared, Drusilla peeking over his shoulder.

William pushed Buffy behind him to shield her but she shoved him aside, grabbed the top of the doorway and swung her feet into Angelus' chest, knocking him five feet across the room. Drusilla reached to her left and seized her new lover, restraining him in a chokehold.

"Cor, love. I thought we had an understanding," she hissed in his ear. William went limp so Drusilla unhooked her arm from around his neck. But it had been a trick. He pushed her away and huled himself into the struggle between Angelus and Buffy. Angelus flung him against the opposite wall. William had always heard madmen had uncanny strength, but this was beyond belief. Like a shot Drusilla was at his side. She dragged him by his feet into the den and locked the door, then hastened to aid her sire in subduing the blonde intruder. Buffy had already bested Angelus and was running with Slayer speed to rescue William. She collided with Dru, whose iron-strong hands threw her to the floor and pinned her there. Buffy shoved her knee in Dru's groin and tossed her away. She was up in a flash, she ran to the den and busted the lock free. 

"Get back!" she shouted to William. He instinctively obeyed, at last realizing that she knew something he didn't about how to deal with these monsters. Buffy reached under her shirt, drew a out a wooden stake and stood in slayer stance. They were not going to get William. He was not going to become Spike. 

Angelus and Drusilla burst in.

"Cor...she's go' a stake," Drusilla smiled.

"What, lassie, it's that you're the Slayer, is it? Chang Lu is dead then?" Angelus had lost all pretense of an English accent and spoke in his full Galway lilt.

Buffy gave him a grim, triumphant smile. "I'm sure Chang Lu is alive and kicking ass. I am Buffy, the first Slayer of the twenty-first century, sent by the powers that be to stop the events of tonight. You are going to let William go and maybe I won't kill you."

"Slayer?" she heard William say. "Slayer of what?"

Angelus gave that annoying cackle Buffy so hated. 'Keep cackling, lover,' she thought. 'The more you annoy me the less I'll think about the body you're hiding under those foppish Victorian clothes.'

"And here I thought my Dru was mad," Angelus chortled.

"'Ere! Shut it!" Dru whapped him on the arm, pouting. "We're neither of us mad. The girl speaks true. She knows us in the days to come. Psss, psss, psss." She grinned her menace at the Slayer as she waved her fingers in front of her face. "Bad girl. Trying to take me William away."

"Hah! YOUR William. You'll just dump him for a fungus demon anyway."

Dru wrinkled her nose. "Ewwww."

Angelus lunged for Buffy, who fought him off. Dru ripped the stake from her hand and a fierce battle ensued between the three of them. William tried to intervene a few times but got thrown across the room for his pains, once by Buffy himself. "Run!" Buffy shouted again and again, but William would not leave without her. Buffy's hands were around Dru's throat when Angelus brought a heavy vase down on the nape of her neck, stunning her for a moment. Angelus and Drusilla dragged her to the other end of the room where a chain with an iron collar dangled from the ceiling. Angelus clasped it around her neck and smiled into her eyes.

"My, but you're a lovely creature," he purred. Buffy grimaced, It was Angelus, horrible, disgusting Angelus, his broad shoulders looming over her, his lips, which she knew tasted like red wine and spices, ever so close to her face. She could feel every bit of him in her soul and he knew it, though he didn't know why.

Suddenly something leaped onto Angelus and attacked, ripping his shirt and sinking his blunt, white teeth into Angelus' shoulder. William bit so hard he drew blood, Angelus's tainted red blood.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Buffy screamed. "NOOO! Don't swallow it!"

"Arsehole!" William shouted as Angelus threw him off. "How does it bloody feel, pillock!"

Angelus laughed as he touched his bloodied shoulder. "Well, now this is a first, Duckie," he said. "Usually we bite first but..." Buffy watched in despair as William licked Angelus' blood off his lips. 

"Spit it out!" she cried. William didn't listen. His eyes were black coals in blazing in his white face and Buffy feared he was losing his mind.

"Bloody coward!" he hissed at Angelus. "She's just a little girl!"

"White knight," Drusilla cooed, her face beaming with infatuation.

"Tell you what, sweetheart," Angelus said to him. "You come quietly and your girl can get away in one piece. Buffy reached above her head and pulled on the chain with her mighty strength. It groaned in the ceiling. Angelus and Drusilla seized William, each taking an arm. The latter, half-mad from fear for Buffy and for himself, from disgust at his captors, gazed at the chained Slayer with glazed eyes. Buffy knew she had failed and the tears gushed down her cheeks. 

"Aw, poor lass. You might as well let us have him. If you care for the blighter you'd be wanting us to make him immortal for you."

Buffy kept pulling on the chain. "You want to make him a killer!"

The vampires burst out laughing. "Did that 'imself already, Slayer," Dru giggled. "Don't leave us the blame."

"Shut up, you wacko!" Buffy snapped back.

"'Tis true, my girl," Angelus said in mock sorrow. "Killed his own father, he did. Broke his bloody neck and pushed him down the stairs. Drusilla saw it all in her dream, didn't you Duckie?"

Buffy stopped tugging the chain and stared at William. He gazed back in despair, the truth in his eyes. Buffy remembered when she had pushed a man downstairs to his death, and she remembered why she'd done it.

"Your mother," she said. "You were protecting her."

"He would have killed her," William replied, his voice a mere rasp in his throat. "I am not defending myself. Maybe I could have saved her without killing him. I'll never know."

Buffy smiled her sorrow and respect to him. "Don't worry, William, my friend. I'd have done the same thing." He closed his eyes in shame at her sympathy. The vampires jerked his arms, hard, snapping them open again.

"A killer he lives," Angelus intoned. "A killer he shall die. A killer...he will rise again." His face changed and he sank his fangs into William's neck and drank. Drusilla put on her game face and slid her teeth into William's chest. They drank slowly, gently, as much to torture Buffy as to enrapture him, the blood inching out of him and into their veins. Buffy pulled and pulled at the chain that held her captive, knowing she was next if she did not escape. Suddenly William's head jerked upward and his eyes opened, glazed and white. "The portal is closing," he choked. A spasm shook William from head to foot, he gave a long and loud cry, then went still.

At that moment, the chain Buffy had been pulling on relentlessly gave way and she was free. She pushed past the two vampires and the dead man on the ground and ran with Slayer spped out of that house of hell. "The portal is closing" she heard William's voice in her head as she sped for the park. The air under the tree was shimmering. Buffy dove into it, felt a spasm of pain and a crash and she was back in Sunnydale.

*****************************

EPILOGUE

[As you read this, imagine the song "Freight Train" by Metallica playing in the background.]

Eddie had been drinking. He was on his way home from the pub, trudging along the railroad tracks under the light of the moon. It was a lonely night, except for the silouette of one man who stood in his path.

"'Ello, Eddie!" said a familiar voice.

Eddie drew closer. Plague take him if it wasn't William Daniels. He had disappeared a week ago and there were rumors he was dead. But there he was, plain as the moon in the sky. He looked different, though. William's hair had turned white from the shock of his ordeal and it gleamed in the light of the night, contrasting sharply with long, black overcoat and boots he wore. Eddie felt vaguely apprehensive, then mentally kicked himself. It was that poof, William Daniels. Nothing to be afraid of.

"Piss off Daniels. Ain't got time for you tonight."

The blighter blocked his way, smiling with shining white teeth into his face. "I got time for you, old mate," he said. "I got something for ya."

"Yeah, what's that then?"

Daniels walked jauntily to the railroad tracks and to Eddie's amazement, pulled a long, thin railroad spike out of the track with sheer brute strength. Eddie backed away from him.

"Now where you going, Eddie, you old poof? Not afraid, are ye?"

Eddie was speechless. He continued to back away from William, who walked toward him relentlessly, grinning that white grin, dark eyes twinkling in his harshly white face. "Come on Willie. We were always mates, weren't we? So I roughed you up a little. I made you strong, didn't I?"

"I hate when you call me Willie, Ed. Call me....Spike." And the black night was filled with Eddie's screams as Spike proved his name.

********************************

"Buffy, it's a good thing that you couldn't stop what happened. I told you -- you must never change history, only observe it and learn from it." Giles wiped a tear from Buffy's face with his thumb as they sat on his comfortable sofa. 

"But I liked him so much. He had such a hard life, but he was trying to better himself. He reminded me of me."

"No doubt. Why should it surprise you that William was a good man before he turned? Look at how vicious Willow's vampire alter-ego was, yet she is your trusted and loyal friend in this life."

"But why couldn't I save him? Why would the powers send me to meet him only to make me watch him die?"

"Well, has anything changed for you since your sojourn into the past?"

"The only thing that's changed is I don't hate Spike anymore."

Giles smiled at her a little sadly, his wisdom shining in his eyes. "Perhaps that is your answer," he said.

******************************

Drusilla sat at her vanity, wearing a white nightgown decked with lace, giving her an appearance of innocence that belied her nature. She was sad, sad.

It had happened. Angelus had turned William, just as she'd asked him to. Every night he told her what a splendid demon he was. They didn't even call him William anymore...they called him Spike in honor of his method of wreaking vengeance on those he had known in his former life. 

So why was Drusilla sad, she asked herself. Drusilla should be happy. 

No. Not happy. William Daniels had been her White Knight, her hero in shining armor. She had not expected to fall in love with William before turning him, but she did. Her stolen moments with him in Angelus' bedroom had been the most divine of her undead existence. He had loved her then. He had kissed her and called her his goddess. Angelus never called her that. Now he had changed. They didn't even call him William anymore.

Drusilla could count on nothing from him. After all, she had loved the nuns before she was changed and she didn't love them anymore. What if Spike didn't love Drusilla anymore? He had not come to her since they changed him. She told herself Angelus was keeping him too busy. But that didn't stop the tears from trickling down her pale, olive face.

"I am ugly," she said to Miss Edith, her doll. "I am ugly and he hates me."

A few moments later she heard a clinking sound. She twisted around and saw him, a black and white silouette in her chamber doorway. He held a long, rusted railroad spike in his hand. It dripped blood on her oriental rug. He knocked it against her bureau, causing the little knickknacks to clink, clink, clink together.

"There you are." His voice was low, menacing. 

Drusilla had not known fear since she was changed. But she knew fear now. She stood up and nervously smoothed her nightgown.

"Playing with your dolls, I see," he said with a smirk. "Is that how it was with us, Ducks? You drugged me and played with me like one of your dolls?"

"No." She shook her head.

"Afraid, love? Afraid of this?" He lifted the spike and touched it to her face, leaving a drop of blood. Covering her fear, Dru seized the spike and licked the blood off it. He snatched it back and flung it away.

"You were playing with fire, Dru," he said. "Lie to me and play with me, will you." Suddenly he pulled her to him, dipped down, slipped his right arm under her legs and his left under her shoulders and swept her up into his arms. Drusilla gasped. Such fear, such thrilling, thrilling fear...! He pulled her close and put his face close to hers. "I think it's time I taught you a lesson," he murmured. 

The thrill of terror swept through Drusilla again and she went limp in his arms, throwing her head back, surrendering to the hour at hand. "Spike!" she cried. He carried her to her queen-sized bed, flung her across it, then with stern hands and punishing lips, he taught her.

*****************************

Spike lay sleeping with his head nestled between Dru's breasts. Drusilla was not asleep. She was stroking his white hair and gazing at his face, as innocent as a baby's, smooth of cheek and long of lash.

With every touch of Drusilla's hands, with every kiss of her mouth, Spike's rage had cooled and the ice in his heart had melted away, until, as they locked together in perfect union, he pledged his undying, unceasing, eternal love, until he nearly wept as he buried his face in her black hair, and when it was all over he was on his knees before her, declaring her his goddess and himself her priest. 

Spike was now every inch a terror to the world, but he was still Drusilla's White Knight.

She looked down at him with all the love a mother, sister, wife could feel and pulled him closer, if that was possible. She curled her legs over his and fell asleep, utterly happy for the first time in her existence, living or undead.

******************************

Buffy knocked at the door of the crypt in the early morning. It opened a crack. "Oh, it's you," she heard Spike say at on the other side of the door. He opened it and regarded her insolently. 

"Well? Can I come in?"

"Oh, by all means do," he said with exaggerated courtesy. She stepped past him and looked around. An old Killing Joke poster adorned a grey wall. A tiny battery refrigerator, a black and white TV and a few blankets over a hard bed were his only amenities. For a vampire, he lived an awfully ascetic life.

"It's cozy," she said.

"Five minutes, Summers. State your business and go." He blew a cloud of cigarette smoke into her face. She coughed and waved it away, making him laugh.

"I just came to say..."

"What?" He turned his back and busied himself with something, she couldn't tell what. 

"I just came to say I'm sorry." 

Spike turned and faced her. She analyzed the lines of his face. Yes. It was the same. Whiter, crueler, but the same.

"Sorry for what, Buff?"

"I failed you. And I'm sorry for that."

Spike leered at her. "Oh, you mean your little trip into the past to slay me before the fact? Nice try, love."

"How did you know..."

"Easy. I had one set of memories yesterday and a I have a whole new set today. Well, now you know what a wanker I was before I was changed, you can truly appreciate the glory that is me."

"You weren't a wanker. You tried to protect the people you loved, like your mother. I respect you for that.

Spike did not cotton to her bringing up the subject of his mother. "Get out," he said. "There's the door." He waved his hand at her and turned his back, busying himself again.

"Will you forgive me, Spike? I'm not leaving here until you say yes or no."

Spike turned his head without turning his body as was his habit, eyeing her quizzically. He turned and walked toward her. "The wanker told me to give you this, seeing he didn't have the guts," he said. He gripped her shoulders, bent his head and kissed her mouth, a cold and close-lipped kiss that lasted a little longer than he intended. He pulled away from her and forced a sneer. "The sad thing is, little William Daniels will never know his lips finally touched yours. Ironic, isn't it?"

Buffy looked in his eyes. "He knows," she said soberly. She turned and walked out of the cold crypt, into the morning sun.


End file.
